Red Hot Obsessions (93 page)

The cabbie drove too slowly for my liking. But at least I’d sobered up a bit before he pulled in front of Planters Inn. I paid him and rushed to the hotel, stopping in the lobby. The interior screamed money, and the little devil on my shoulder broke out in its ‘you don’t belong here’ laughter.

My fingers and toes tingled. I cracked my head to the side and took a deeper breath. What the fuck was I doing? I should be with my mother, but her early bedtime and even earlier mornings just weren’t my thing.

The faint sound of quiet live music drew my gaze toward the lobby bar. Another shot of tequila would add some braveness to my body. I headed for the low-lit room. The plush carpeting under my feet felt like a sponge when I stopped in the doorway. The man at the grand piano began a new tune as I scanned the tables. Orange and brown Tiffany lamp tones from above hardly illuminated anyone, casting precise shadows on people’s faces that allowed intimate and private conversations. My gaze finally rested on the bar and the broad shoulders of a muscular back. They stretched out under a black shirt that could only belong to one person. A fragment of his thorn tattoo showed from underneath the sleeve. A glass of scotch swirled the ice cubes in his right hand. Tristan Cross looked as sexy from the back as from the front.

I took a deep breath in and slowed my steps toward him. The faint bar light shone from the top, lighting the blond streaks in his tussled brown hair. A foot away I stopped. Feeling someone’s gaze on my back, I turned around. I shook the weird feeling off as nerves and slid my hand around Cross’s waist from behind.

“I want you to taste me again.” I closed my eyes and leaned around from behind, pressing my lips to his. The response was immediate. His lips swelled and I opened my mouth. The sweet taste of scotch filled my mouth. His tender tongue welcomed me as if it was once again our first, semi-deep kiss. My mouth searched for the small scar ripple on his lip, but I couldn’t feel it. He explored me provocatively, yet not too deep to draw attention. His arms rested on my hips, and I wondered why he hadn’t embraced me yet. I wanted to be closer, to feel his hard chest against mine.

“Is it a habit of yours to kiss strange men?” someone asked behind me.

I jumped up, suddenly aware it was Cross who spoke. “What the hell?” I felt my mouth drop open as I pushed away from the look-alike.

“It felt more like heaven,” the man said.

I looked from him to Tristan and my hand flew up to cover my mouth. The resemblance between the two men was unbelievable. From the high cheeks and deep hazel eyes down to the little dimple in his chin, this man was a slightly older version of Tristan Cross. The only piece missing was the small scar on his upper lip.

“Allie Green, meet Julian Cross, my brother.” A wicked smile stretched across Tristan’s face.

The man I’d just kissed offered his hand to shake.

“Why did you kiss me back?” I accused, tightening my fists.

“Why do we eat, sleep, or walk?” he answered, grinning. “And I’m not the one who kissed you. You kissed me first.” He still held his hand out, waiting for a proper introduction.

“Seriously? You share the same tattoo artist too?”

Both of them simply grinned.

I did the double-take between the two brothers who could have passed for twins. Yet it seemed Tristan’s older brother had more of a devilish streak than Tristan. I finally took his hand and shook it in a formal greeting.

“You’re not the first to make the mistake, although next time I’d prefer to be on the receiving end.” Tristan guided my elbow to sit up on the bar stool. He then leaned in, whispering in my ear, “You look ravishing, by the way.”

The warm breath caressed my cheek and the room seemed to shrink again, making me acutely aware of how close Tristan was to me.

“Thank you. I’m sorry about that, Julian. I won’t make the mistake again.”

“I didn’t mind,” he answered.

“Trust me, she won’t make the mistake again.” Tristan’s tone sharpened. He sat on my other side, and for a moment I felt like I was squished in a yummy Cross brother sandwich.

“I didn’t mean to interrupt your evening,” I said.

“I’m glad you did, and you’re not really interrupting. We’re done for tonight.” He looked toward the bartender and called, “Comisario.”

“Wait...” I placed my hand on Tristan’s. The touch may as well have been a kiss. It weaved like an electric current up my arm to my face and my lips in a series of heated waves and sweet pulses. I locked my gaze with Tristan’s, saying, “That’s too much.”

“It’s on me, Allie. Enjoy.” The bartender poured a shot of one of the most delicious tequilas I’d ever encountered. Cross tapped the bar with his finger, and the bottle remained on the bar.

“Thank you.” I swung the first shot back, letting the smooth liquid run down my throat. It didn’t burn the way my first one normally did, and the instant relaxation flew through my whole body.

“If you excuse me, I have an early morning.” Julian stood up, took my hand into his, and kissed my palm as if he were from Europe.

Holy crap!
The man was as hot as Tristan, with most likely tons of women swooning around him as well. I was way out of my league.

“It’s been a pleasure, Allie. Hopefully I’ll get the same kind of greeting next time,” he winked.

“Don’t count on it, brother.”

They shook each other’s hands, which I found too formal for siblings, and Julian strode off toward the elevators. The bartender poured another shot for me.

“And here I thought you made a business excuse just to go on a trip with me.” I swiveled on the bar stool toward him. My knee touched his and stayed there, as if attached. He shifted and my leg squished in between his thighs.

“I did.” He took a sip of his scotch. “The beauty of being my own boss is that I can do business wherever I want.”

“Are you doing business now?” I asked, swinging my head back again. “This is good.”

“I’m glad you like it. How is your mother?”

“You’re avoiding my question.”

“All right. No, I’m not doing business now. I’m enjoying your company, Allie. You look beautiful tonight. Is that your mother’s favorite dress?” he teased, sliding his hand onto my thigh, smoothing over the velvety fabric.

“No, my gut told me to pack it.” I felt my cheeks warm up.

“I like your gut.” He shut his eyes closed. “Shit, that sounds wrong.”

Was Cross nervous? It was the first time I’d heard him fumble. And I thought I saw a hint of red decorate his cheeks. The vulnerable shade flipped my heart. He might as well have been holding his newborn son the way radiance beamed from him when he looked at me.

“I’m glad you took this dress.”

The quirky feeling of being a teenager on a date came back to me in a flashback. The one where the boy who picks you up for your first date is standing in the doorway, waiting until you powder your nose or finish getting ready.

“My mother’s well. She’s happy I visited.” I didn’t know what else to say, and I wasn’t ready to say,
Hi, I wore this dress because I thought you’d like to rip it off me.

“Did she like the tequila?”

“We both did,” I chuckled. Gosh, he knew me better than I thought.

“I thought you would. I’m glad you’re here, Allie.” He lowered his palm on top of mine. “I don’t get much time to relax these days. This is perfect.”

I wasn’t too sure what that meant, but it felt right. Amazingly perfect, in fact, which frightened me. Was he referring to the trip, or the hotel, or us here together? I wasn’t sure, but I was glad to be here with Tristan as well. Or perhaps it was the smooth Comisario conspicuously working its way through my body.

“Me too. Do you have other siblings?” I asked.

“A younger sister. She lives at home with my parents in New Jersey. She was a surprise for my parents late in their life. With two boys in their early teens, my mom had her hands full, but my father kept us busy with work. He founded our company and has been prepping us to take over ever since I can remember so he can retire.”

Cross had a sister. My heart ached. I should have had one too. Emma would have been thirteen by now, and I probably would not have been sitting with Cross at a bar. Or perhaps fate would have found a different way to unite us. Maybe our sisters could have been friends?

“Your father is still working?” I asked, feeling more at ease with Tristan.

Tristan laughed. It was a subtle laugh, full of happiness and distant memories. “He’ll never retire. He says he will, but he won’t. And I don’t blame him. What we do can get pretty addictive.”

“What you do sounds dangerous. I mean undercover operations, body guards for government officials, secret surveillance. I bet there are plenty of men who’d like your head on a platter for exposing their infidelity or criminal activities.”

“My father used to do the muscle work. That’s why he trained me and Julian, but we rarely get to use our skills out in the field. I’m usually behind the scenes working from my office to put the operation together. My cousin Gabe Silver is our partner. He deals with surveillance, and I make sure the muscle and the right people for the job we need are hired.”

The name he’d mentioned sounded familiar.

“When you know what you’re doing and have people you can count on, it’s not so bad.”

“Are you counting on me? It sounds like you miss your parents.” I took another swig. The buzz began to work its way into my head. I knew I should slow down, but this perfect feeling of a simple life and comfortable conversation was too much to resist.

“I am counting on you. And I miss my family every day as much as you miss your father.” He squeezed my hand, reminding me it was still there, holding mine in support and reassurance. So, he knew my father was dead. Of course he did. That wasn’t something I could hide from anyone. Every day I thought about what life would be like with him around. Would he have taught me how to drive a car? Perhaps warn me to stay wary of boys and men, explain how everything in their minds always revolved around sex?

Then he continued, “I live in Manhattan, but I’d prefer to have a home like my parents’. It’s just more convenient now to stay close to the job.”

“I’d pictured you as more of a country boy.”

“Well, you read me well. It’s always been my dream to live in the country.”

“What’s stopping you?”

“Everything.” Darkness covered his eyes. An uneasy vibe passed between us, and I got the feeling Cross’s job got in the way of his life more than he admitted.

“Don’t get me wrong, I love what I do, and I think I’ll do it forever like my father, but when family trouble is mixed in with business, it makes it that much more difficult.”

“The job you need me for has something to do with family?”

He shook his head. “Not tonight, Allie. I just want to enjoy your company.”

This time it was me squeezing his hand. I had a few more shots, laughed, talked, and leaned into Tristan more than I intended. I wasn’t sure how I ended up in a luxurious hotel room, but the pillow was so comfortable and fluffy and smelled of fresh lavender, I couldn’t resist resting my head. My last inhale before I closed my eyes was of Tristan, and I fell asleep smiling.

CHAPTER 6

The sun shone into my eyes and I shot up, tightening the sheets around my front.

Shit!

“Relax, Allie, you’re okay.” Tristan sat on an armchair, reading a paper. A mug of warm liquid steamed at the table.

I smelled coffee.

How in the world did I end up in Tristan Cross’s hotel room? And in his bed? I shut my eyes and pressed my fingers to my temples, trying to remember what exactly had happened.

Shit!
My mother. And a lot of smooth tequila.
Shit, shit, shit!

“I’m so sorry, I have to get home. My mother...” I flipped the covers off, then quickly pulled them back up. Apparently, I was naked.

My little show didn’t go unnoticed. A hungry rumble sounded from where Cross was sitting.

“Your mother is fine. She knows where you are.”

“You spoke with my mother?” I asked, suddenly feeling ill at the thought. What would my mother think of me? That I’d told a stranger where she lived? That I’d failed to protect her once again. And, worst of all, I hadn’t come home for the night and slept in his hotel room. She must have been worried; or had she? I’d never discussed any relationships with my mother, especially the sexual ones. The talk beyond simple dating was off limits between the two of us. I’d avoided the subject because the first sexual experience I’d been a witness to was my mother getting raped. A brutal attack I couldn’t stop.

“She’s a beautiful lady, Allie. I can see where you get your charm.” He set the newspaper down on a table.

“You met her?” And, I sent a stranger to her house. She must have freaked.

“She makes the most delicious stack of waffles I’ve ever tasted.”

What?
My mother hadn’t made waffles since that dreadful day. How had Cross managed to persuade her?

Not only had she let him inside, but she’d also made him breakfast.

“She made you waffles? What time is it?”

I gazed around the room, searching for a clock. The fluffy bed filled with over a dozen pillows would have better suited Cross, or even the Queen, than me. The antique wood tones set the room back a few decades. A mirror hung above the fireplace on the wall across from the bed. Still, there was no clock.

“I have that effect on women.” He shrugged. “It’s ten in the morning. I didn’t want to wake you.”

My dress had been nicely laid out on the chair beside Tristan. Black panties and bra were folded on top into a neat square. Tristan followed my gaze and smirked.

“Did we?” I gasped.

“No,” he shook his head. “I don’t take advantage of women.”

“You undressed me?”

“I helped you take off your dress. You did the rest.”

Gosh, he’d seen me in my underwear! Or even naked!

I buried my face in my hands and slid lower under the covers. Would Earth please open up and swallow me whole? This was so unlike me. It was the damn tequila again. Yet oddly I didn’t feel the hangover I usually had, though thirst was slowly creeping into my mouth. Tristan stood up and passed me a bottle of water.

“Thank you. You must think I’m a drunk.”

“I don’t, Allie. Everyone needs to wind down once in a while. You’re human. And believe me, you’re not a drunk. I’ve seen addicts and alcoholics enough.”

“I also should be more responsible.”

“You’re one of the most responsible women I’ve met.” He placed a file labeled with my name on my lap. I wanted to get up and get dressed, but wasn’t sure how, with Tristan staring at me. He had me pinned in the exact spot he wanted me.

“What is that?”

“Everything I need to know about you.”

“How?”

“Really? You have to ask?”

Of course not! Cross was an investigator. I should have expected he had a thick file on my past in that leather briefcase he carried.

“May I?”

He nodded.

I flipped through the pages and there it was. My entire past. My stripping days, some photos, where and when I moved my mother, how I paid for college. Everything except Wright. He wasn’t there. I exhaled in relief.

Then it dawned on me. Cross had known everything about me before he stepped into the auditorium. The job I tried to erase from my resume haunted me. I wasn’t ashamed of it, but the stripping past didn’t help when you wanted to move up the law enforcement ladder. He was aware of how I’d paid my way through college and police academy. Yet, it was me he wanted to hire.

“You know it all.” I closed the file. “Why me, then?”

His expression changed to one of disappointment. Well, I’m sorry if my life’s circumstances forced me to make decisions most women didn’t have to!

“It’s time we put some cards out on the table. We’re taking a trip today.”

“But my mother...”

“Your mother is fine. She knows you’re safe with me. She threatened not to make me waffles again if I hurt you.”

“She did?”

“She loves you, Allie, and wants to see you happy. And I can’t have you thinking about other things when I hire you. I need you to know you’re safe, she’s safe, and only then can you work with me.”

“How do you know she needs to feel safe?”

“I’ve seen the locks on the door, Allie. And the shot gun. You’ve done your research, too. The demographics of her moves are clear. You always found an apartment for her in the safest neighborhoods you could afford.”

Gosh, he was good!

Tristan strolled toward the bed, making me aware of my naked tingling body underneath the thin sheets. I wondered whether I’d have been in his hotel room bed if I hadn’t been drunk last night. Would he have made a move on me then? Or would he have simply offered a handshake and a peck on the cheek as a good night token?

“I’m the best in the business, Allie. Nothing can pass me by. I’m just not sure you’re up for the hooker position.”

“I can do it.”

“You’re too frail. Too innocent.”

“You need to give me a chance. I can do the job.”

“We’ll see. Get dressed.” He pointed to my small suitcase by his chair.

I couldn’t believe my mother had given him my suitcase! What kind of charm had he used on her?

“Wear something comfortable, please. Breakfast is ready in the dinette. We’re leaving in an hour.”

He lowered himself to kiss me, on my mouth, but he didn’t force a tongue or linger for long. It was the sweetest good morning kiss I’d ever had. Even with the tequila morning breath and all. And because of that kiss I forgot to ask him where we were going. Not that it mattered, so long as Cross still wanted to be with me and to hire me. I had to make sure he did. At this point I couldn’t picture not working for him, with him, and perhaps one day under him. What had he done to me to become so dependent on his company?

Tristan lifted my panties off the chaise by the corner. He let them hang provocatively on his finger, swaying back and forth. The little scar on his upper lip did something funny and sexy as hell as his lip twitched, like he wanted to taste what he had in his hand.

“Black lingerie is my favorite, by the way. I’m looking forward to a day I can remove it from you piece by piece, with my teeth. Need help putting them on?” The deep growl that rolled his voice, trembling my body, made me want to flip that cover off the bed and let him do to me as he pleased.

And there was that dimple again. Heat spread from my cheeks down between my legs. Tristan had no idea how much I was looking forward to him removing them as well, but I didn’t think allowing him help me with the undergarments was a good idea. I doubted I’d get them on at all, with him that close to me.

***

We drove over an hour west of Charleston. The houses began to scatter, their distance increasing to miles apart. Tristan steered up a dirt road, weaving up the mountain. The first leaves had begun falling here. A blend of oranges, reds, and yellows decorated the hillside, and the valleys below were covered in beautiful autumn blends. I rolled down the window. The warm wind fluttered my hair, smelling of passed rain and fresh moss. Near the peak, Tristan pulled over to the graveled side. We were still in the middle of nowhere. Beyond the wall of shrubs, a forest covered the valley below. With binoculars in one hand, he took my other hand into his and led me toward the hill’s edge.

“Are we bird-watching?” I asked. The curiosity inside me almost burst out my seams.

“No, not bird watching. Get comfortable.” He pointed to a patch of grass in the clearing that overlooked a valley, lay down on his stomach, and placed the binoculars to his eyes, adjusting their focus.

I lay beside him, looking in the same direction, waiting for my turn. The dried grass tickled the sides of my arms and I was thankful I was wearing jeans. It held the same smell I’d remembered on Tristan when he came to the bar, and I wondered whether he scouted like this often.

Tristan kept looking through the lens, his face more serious than I’d expected. What did he want to show me? His lips formed a straight line, lopsided a fraction by the scar. The curve on my mouth slowly faded as I concentrated on his face. The pulse on his neck thickened his jugular. My nerves picked up as I wondered whether we were on one of his job assignments and he was testing me today. I suspected I wouldn’t see anything pleasant, not from the way his fists tightened around the black plastic. After a long exhale, he handed me the binoculars, wrapped his right arm around me, and directed my gaze where he wanted me to look.

“One o’clock. There’s a house in the forest. The patch-of-grass driveway is greener than the rest around it,” he whispered.

I focused through the lens, seeking the wooden structure he described slightly to the right. There it was! A log cabin, not more than twenty by twenty, windows covered with cardboard box. A simple home turned sideways, both front and back yard visible.

“I got it.” I matched his predatory voice. We were on a hunt, looking for a suspect, I imagined.

“Look in the back.”

I felt a tighter squeeze of support on my arm. Tristan had his entire arm around me now, holding on, smoothing his palm on the back of my bicep.

“And breathe, Allie. Please breathe,” he said.

At that moment I understood the concern that had coated every single word Tristan had said to me.

“Oh, my God,” I whispered. My jaw tightened. If I ground my teeth any harder, it’d snap.

“He lives closer than you thought, doesn’t he?” Tristan asked.

I nodded, feeling the lump form in my throat. It had been a few years since I’d seen the creep, and the feelings of betrayal and guilt rushed back to me. The bastard had changed: a little older now, with gray hair covering most of his head. A new hump stuck out at the top of his back. For a moment, he looked my way and I held my breath. My heart raced. Wright narrowed his brows before he resumed sharpening a blade on a whetstone. The scrunched clothing appeared old, but the mean streak I remembered on his face was still there.

My hands trembled as my memory searched that day. The blood on my mother’s clothes, its iron tang on the tip of my tongue, the smell of raw dough from waffle batter, the scent of hospital antiseptic and fresh daisies from Emma’s wreath all blended into one.

“My mother told you?” I asked, looking at the man who ruined our lives. I couldn’t pull away. Both my resolve and anger boiled inside me.

“Yes.”

I blamed myself for that. I should have known the day she downed a bottle of tequila on her own and told me she knew I was under the staircase that she’d eventually spill it to someone else. When the time was right, she had to tell someone about what had happened; but why did it have to be Cross? My body shook and I couldn’t take the binoculars away. The ovals of the optics stuck around my eyes. I pressed them harder. Something was wrong. Wright was in his preparation mode. I’d seen this before when I was a child. I remembered the way his sleeves were rolled up before he went out hunting with Daddy; then that day; and again when he almost found my mother two years ago.

“I have to go, Tristan. She’s not safe anymore.” The swell in my eyes had been controlled too well, but my pulse was another story.

“Stay.” Tristan’s firm grip around me pinned my body in place. “Your mother’s safe with Julian. I drove them to the airport myself this morning.”

“What are you talking about? She went with Julian?” I turned on my side.

“It didn’t take much persuasion once I told her Wright was in the area.”

“So you knew before she told you? How? No one knew.”

“People talk. They suspect things. And someone like Wright has a big enough mouth to have bragged about your mother to the wrong person.”

“Is that why you came with me?”

“Yes.”

“You should have told me.”

“You would have run. You would have gone to your mother, taken her out, and left the city. You would have worried about her and about Wright being too close.”

Cross was right. That was exactly what would have happened. My mother’s safety always took priority. The moment Tristan told me about Wright, I would have fled. And I wasn’t sure I’d have had the strength to come back.

“I need you focused, Allie. With your mother safe in my home, will you focus?”

“She’s at your house?”

“She’s a guest at my parents’ house. They don’t ask questions. And I promised your mother I’d let her leave once Wright was out of the way.”

“Out of the way?”

“Stay here.” He stood up and strolled to his rented Bentley. He came back carrying a long-range rifle, one used by professional snipers. I’d shot quite a few rounds of those, practicing at different shooting ranges. It took less than a minute for him to set it up.

“Do it,” he’d said.

“Now?”

“I’ll get rid of the body the way you want. I won’t ask any questions. No one will. You can go on with your life as if nothing had happened. And on Friday you’ll come to my office to fill out the paperwork I need you to.”

I got comfortable in front of the rifle and adjusted my body on the grass surface. The metal handle felt so right in my hand, its cold grip eerily soothing to my touch. My elbows dug into crunchy stems; where the yellowed strands should have tickled my flesh, it felt like they cut right in. I breathed evenly, looked through the zoom, and aimed a perfect shot. My finger held steady on the trigger as I focused the center of the shot on Wright’s temple: right smack in the middle.